Read Online Those We Left Behind by Stuart Neville - Free Book Online Page B

had taken, staring at Daniel. Smaller than Thomas, but stringy thin like him. Always watchful, as if he was merely a spectator in this world.
    Thomas didn’t answer. Pimples scattered across his face, a dark and bitter smell about him.
    ‘You’re supposed to ask,’ Daniel said again, firmer, meaning his authority to be noted.
    Ciaran’s gaze moved back and forth between them both.
    ‘Who am I supposed to ask?’ Thomas said.
    ‘Mum or Dad,’ Daniel said. ‘You can’t just take stuff.’
    ‘Your ma and da aren’t here,’ Thomas said. He finished the biscuit, wiped his hands on his T-shirt, and opened the fridge.
    ‘Mum’s just gone to the shop. She’ll only be a minute.’
    Thomas took a sealed packet of sliced ham from the fridge and set about opening it.
    ‘That’s for our lunch,’ Daniel said.
    Thomas took a slice, shoved it in his mouth, made slapping noises as he chewed.
    Daniel went to the fridge and closed it. ‘You can’t just take stuff.’
    Thomas held the packet out to Ciaran. The younger brother took a slice, folded it, and nibbled at the corners. Like he wasn’t really hungry and only ate because he was told to. Thomas showed Daniel the packet.
    ‘You want some?’
    ‘No. You can’t just take stuff without asking. I won’t tell Mum this time. She might not notice. But if you do it again, I’ll—’
    When he thought about it later, Daniel couldn’t remember Thomas moving across the room towards him. Only that he had been by the table, the packet of ham in one hand, then that same hand had been at Daniel’s throat, squeezing it tight. Thomas kicked at Daniel’s heels, took his legs from under him.
    The tiled floor slammed into his shoulders, cracked against the back of his skull. Black circles danced across his vision, a galaxy of dark stars. Thomas grinning through them, his weight on Daniel’s chest.
    Ciaran stood over them both, his face without expression. Not amusement, not anger, not fear. A blankness that still woke Daniel in the night.
    Thomas reached out his hand, the one that didn’t have a hold of Daniel’s throat. He felt around for something that Daniel couldn’t see. Daniel heard plastic slide on tile, and something wet. Thomas’s hand came back, a slice of ham in his fingers, retrieved from the floor where he’d dropped it. Daniel saw hair and grit clinging to the pink flesh.
    ‘You sure you don’t want some?’
    Daniel shook his head.
    ‘Ah, go on,’ Thomas said.
    Daniel croaked out the word, ‘No.’
    ‘Ah, go on.’ Thomas grinned. ‘Ah, go on, go on, go on, go on . . .’
    He repeated the words over and over, like that housekeeper from the old comedy programme Daniel’s parents loved.
    Daniel opened his mouth to shout something, leave me alone, get off, something, his mind hadn’t formed the words yet, but Thomas’s fingers rammed between his teeth, along with the ham and the hair and the grit. He gagged as the saltiness cloyed at the back of his throat, felt the hardness of the fingers on his tongue. Through no will of his own, his body bucked, throwing his hips from side to side, but Thomas stayed on him, laughing.
    Daniel didn’t know how long had passed, how much he had endured, before the idea entered his head to close his teeth together. He hesitated, doubting his desire to do this boy harm in spite of the torment. Then he tightened his jaw. He felt the flesh and the bones through his teeth. Thomas’s grin widened, his eyes flashing. He did not pull his hand away.
    ‘Do it,’ Thomas said. ‘Bite harder.’
    A scream trapped in the back of his throat, Daniel increased the pressure.
    ‘Bite them off,’ Thomas said. ‘I dare you.’
    The fingers writhed, the nails scratching his tongue, the insides of his cheeks, the soft floor of his mouth.
    No air. Not a breath in the world. Pressure behind his eyes. Fear came in like a torrent of water. Panic, wild and thrashing in his heart. The roaring in his ears drowning out Thomas’s laughter.
    He